I’ve decided that it really is Ok to own toys when you are older than ten. Not only are they fun to play with, but you can release your inner child. Because let’s face it, being a kid is fun. And sometimes I wish I could actually have a tantrum in public where I lie on the ground and flail my arms and legs about, and it’s alright because I am going through the ‘terrible 28’s’.
I’m going to openly admit that I currently share my bed with some stuffed toys. There’s Krabby the crab (it’s spelt with a ‘K’ cause he’s old skool kool), Lobby the lobster, and Prawny the Prawn. It’s all quite crustaceous really. They just sit there and stare at me with their googly eyes. I laugh when I wake up in the morning and the first thing I see are a claw and a crazy stuffed eye staring at me. I use them for my background crew and crazy puppet shows to my long distance friends who are politely used to it (and me), on Skype.
I have a collection of three cutely ugly stuffed creatures that hang from my wall. I found them in a wee shop in Shanghai, and bought every one one they had. They hang about with their interchangeable Velcro lips, looking like they should be in a cartoon.
The baseball bat takes up residence next to my bed. It was purchased in Hong Kong not for the use of playing baseball, but for just hanging out and being a bat (because why would you buy a baseball bat for baseball?). I was adverse to the purchase of said bat until I was caught with it in my hands, just letting it roll around and slap my palms. It was secretly entertaining, now at doubles as my guard dog.
Then there are the technological toys. I bought a kick-ass camera when I was living in Hong Kong. The thing with being in Hong Kong is that everyone seems to have an equally or more kick-assier camera, because they have money and want to show off their assets. But back in New Zealand, people think you are the media. Today I was walking through a park with my friends, and had my camera slung around my neck. A man walked past with what would locally be considered a big camera, and checked out my piece. I can imagine it would feel like standing in the urinal and casting a side-ways glance to find that you are the most well-endowed in the room (worthy of a secret fist pump in your mind).
It’s fair to say that toys are fun to play with, but I don’t understand the ones that are locked up in an over-crowded prison display cabinet. I’m sure they’d want to escape to be used just as much as you want to pick them up and twist the arms and legs into a karate stance. This is when it is not Ok to have toys after the age of ten. Toys that fall into the too precious to touch category. What’s the point? Why not have a picture of it on the wall instead.
So go ahead and fight the Decepticons with your son’s Optimus Prime, give Barbie a fierce make-over, battle your mates in a Ryu vs. E. Honda Street Fighter match and yell ‘Haidugan’, or rip off the packaging of an original Star-Trek spaceship and completely devalue it. And it’s simply all because toys are fun.